


When will my love come?

by sleapea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, IM, Lance Needs a Hug, Langst, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining Keith/Lance (Voltron), TW: injuries, Unresolved Romantic Tension, also hunk is an 11/10 friend, honestly, keith protects lance w his life, klangst, they are soft boys, they love each other okay, tw: battle, tw: drowning as a theme (no one drowns!!!), wow this sounds wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleapea/pseuds/sleapea
Summary: Keith!The name echoes through his consciousness; it cuts through the ringing and the fog and it shakes him. “Keith?” He asks no one in particular. The word grates up his throat, rough and hoarse and painful.As if in answer, a body shuffles backward, and something warm hits his chest. It slumps against him, rests its head against his shoulder. When it turns, their eyes lock, and all Lance can see is violet. “Keith.” This time, his voice is a whisper.“Yeah.” The voice that responds is low, fond, but it’s strained. At the sound of it, panic shoots through him. His veins light on fire and his heart beats into his throat and - is there blood on his armour?Keith’s posture gives, and Lance catches him with shaking hands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started off bc of a prompt: 
> 
> " I would enjoy if you wrote a near death experience confession featuring soft cuddly boys. (I like when Keith almost dies and confessed to lance right before and lance will have a come to Jesus moment and when Keith comes out of the pod he’s like “my pure baby boy I love you so much let’s cuddle and cradle me in your arms again please) "
> 
> but uh, we ended up with whatever this story is because it's me

** Lance **

 

First, there’s an explosion to his right. An angry, hot burst of fire and pressure that fills the hall and sends him flying backward.

Next, the air is punched from his lungs, his body cracking against something hard and unforgiving. There’s a pain, sharp and hot, that whites his vision. Then, for a moment, there’s nothing.

But only for a moment.

The first thing he registers is the taste of blood in his mouth. He doesn’t remember falling to his knees, but now, they’re crumpled beneath him, heavy and shaking. His ears are ringing, and the room is hazy. There are voices around him, and he’s pretty sure they’re shouting, but it all sounds so far away.

 

_Lance._

 

A tall figure breaks through the smoke around him, gait confident, almost leisurely, as it makes it’s way toward him.

 

_Lance!_

 

It stops a few feet ahead of him, which is when Lance looks. He looks up, only to a see a face he doesn’t recognize. A face that’s smiling down at him.

 

_Don’t you dare touch him!_

 

Everything happens fast. There’s a blur of purple, and then a streak of red. The hard sound of metal against metal. Then, the room gets louder with the sounds of shouting and gun fire, of footsteps and panic.

 

_Keith!_

 

The name echoes through his consciousness; it cuts through the ringing and the fog and it shakes him. “ _Keith_?” He asks no one in particular. The word grates up his throat, rough and hoarse and painful.

As if in answer, a body shuffles backward, and something warm hits his chest. It slumps against him, rests its head against his shoulder. When it turns, their eyes lock, and all Lance can see is violet. “Keith.” This time, his voice is a whisper.

“Yeah.” The voice that responds is low, fond, but it’s strained. At the sound of it, panic shoots through him. His veins light on fire and his heart beats into his throat and - is there blood on his armour?

Keith’s posture gives, and Lance catches him with shaking hands.

“ _Wait_ —” he grapples with the haze and the confusion until the panic cuts through, and then there’s nothing - absolutely nothing but Keith. Keith, in his arms, bleeding through his armour. He gasps, chokes, like he’s been under water, like he’s just come up for air.

“I don’t understand,” he says. His vision clouds, and then a single drop of water hits Keith’s face beneath him. And then another, and another, until he’s turning away. Turning to press his hand against where Keith’s bleeding at his side, to apply pressure, but Keith catches his fingers before he can make it. “I don’t… I don’t — ” he stutters, breath erratic. Keith squeezes his hand, cutting him off. Bringing him down. “ _Why_?” He manages.

“You know why.” His voice is quiet, gravely. Lance holds Keith’s gaze, unable to tear his eyes away. It strips him completely, and he begins to shake.

 

_No, wait — this isn’t right._

 

Keith’s breath begins to wane.

 

_This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen._

 

“I love you, Lance.”

 

The hand holding his slackens, and Lance is helpless to stop the cry that rips ragged and raw from his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Lance remembers is darkness before his world abruptly fills with light. He gasps, ragged and raw and unintentional, and then, he’s falling. The room tips sideways, a blur of greys and whites, until he finds himself enveloped in somebody’s arms. Their hold on him is both warm and hard, firm yet gentle... it has him instantly thinking of —

“Keith!” He gasps, clinging to the body that caught him. Panic shoots up his spine, and all of a sudden, he remembers.  _“Keith!”_

“Lance.” Warm hands are cupping his cheeks, turning his head. He meets a pair of big, olive eyes. “Calm down,” Pidge says without missing a beat. Her voice is level, and something about her tone has him listening. A shaky breath escapes his lungs, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and he stills. “He’s here. He’s okay.” The hands still cupping his cheeks tilt his head, and he’s greeted to the sight of Keith. “He’s right there.”  

The sight of Keith... in a healing pod. 

“You’ve been in a healing pod for three days.” The arms around him — Hunk, he realizes — speak as they set him down on the steps next to his open pod. “You hit your head pretty hard, and Keith...” Hunk pauses for a moment, takes a second to collect himself. “Well... he lost a lot of blood.” 

“Keith should wake up in a couple of days.” Pidge’s voice is soft, soothing, but Lance doesn’t miss the anxious glance she shoots Hunk when she thinks he isn’t looking. “Don’t worry.” She says when he is, forcing a tentative smile. He’s sure it’s meant to be comforting, but it makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

There is nothing quite like the disorientating feeling of being fresh out of a healing pod, and Lance hates it more than anything. He rests his head in his hands, as if that might stop the room from spinning. Panic continues to rise in hot flashes like bile up his throat as the flashbacks come in pieces, breaching the fog of his mind over and over and then fading back into the distance like nothing. 

 

_I love you, Lance._

 

“Does your head hurt?” He doesn’t realize how badly he’s shaking until Hunk rests a hand on his shoulder. He feels overwhelmed, with Keith right next to him yet so far away; with the memories berating him as he sits, sick and shaking, on the steps of the healing pod that saved his life just 3 days prior.  

“Yeah,” is what he settles on. His voice comes out quiet, rough. It sounds... fragile. He winces as it leaves his mouth.

“Shiro should be here in ten minutes.” Pidge supplies from his side, eyes facing the communicator in her palm. “We’re transferring you to the Garrison hospital now, Lance.” She looks up when she speaks again, the wide lenses of her glasses magnifying her expression. Although her words are aimed at Lance, Hunk is the one who meets her worried gaze. Hunk simply slings an arm around Lance’s shoulder, pulling him in close. 

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Hunk’s voice is warm and soft, and light enough that Lance almost believes him. He leans into the comfort of his best friend, and Hunk takes his weight with ease. “They just want to monitor you for a few days… your family is already on their way over,” he pauses, “We’ll take care of everything.” 

And he lets them. He leans against Hunk on their way to the hospital, wills himself not to think of who he’s left behind when he sees his families welcoming faces. He tries to be happy that he’s alive and surrounded by the people he loves, but it feels incomplete.

Once the sun is below the horizon and the stars begin to pepper the sky, the last of his family leaves with promises to return in the morning. Hunk is the very last to go, bidding him goodnight with a hug, and it takes all the composure Lance has left to keep from begging his best friend to stay. 

When he’s finally, inevitably, alone, the full weight of his memories wash over him like an angry wave cresting a rocky shore.

When Lance was young, really young, around 4 or 5, he got his leg caught in an undertow. He remembers how the water pulled him under, filled his lungs with salt and stung his eyes as he fought to keep them open. How nothing he did stopped the water from rushing and rushing around him, how his world blurred and his panic rose and he was helpless to do anything but let it carry him away. 

Tonight is the second time that he feels like he’s drowning as he closes his eyes and Keith stares back at him. 

 

_I love you, Lance._

 

Last time, his brother Luis had been there to save him. To lift him from the water and bring him back to the shore where it was warm and safe. This time, the current takes him out to sea as Keith’s voice replays over and over again in his head until he comes completely undone, alone in his hospital room and wondering if he’ll ever hear it again.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik that they’re at the garrison.... and that they have healing pods...... but hey guess what canon’s dust and it’s my city now!!!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

 

That night, Lance dreams of the ocean. Specifically, the ocean from his childhood. 

It’s a sunny afternoon, and he’s walking to the beach along with Rachel, Veronica, and Luis. Rachel’s holding his hand, swinging their arms back and forth as she sings:

 

_“Estaba la pájara pinta, sentada en un verde limón…” [ There was a spotted bird, sitting in a green lemon tree ]_

 

Luis tells her to keep quiet, but she doesn’t listen. Lance is glad, he likes it when she sings. He squeezes her hand, which earns him a giggle and a toothy grin. Still smiling wide and mischievous, she continues just a little louder: 

 

_“Con el pico cortaba la rama, con la rama cortaba la flor…” [ With its beak it cut the branch, with the branch it cut the flower ]_

 

Veronica turns around, warns them that the waves are big today — strong enough to pull them out to sea. Lance simply huffs, he thinks she’s trying to play a trick on him. But Lance isn’t scared of the sea! He knows better now! Not like last time, when Luis told him that the sea was mad at him, and he refused to go into the water for a week. Luis had laughed and laughed until mamá found out. 

“ _The sea could never be mad at you, mijo.”_ That’s what she’d said to him. And he believed mamá, not Veronica or Luis. Not anyone else! 

Luis turns around, frustrated. But Rachel simply squeals, singing louder and breaking into a run toward the beach with Lance in hand:

 

_“Ay, ay, ay! Cuándo vendrá mi amor!” [ Ay, ay, ay! When will my love come? ]_

 

They both sing and yell and laugh until their feet hit the sand, and they don’t stop until they’re in the water where Luis can’t catch them. He needs to help Veronica set up the umbrella before he can swim, that’s what mamá said! 

It’s fun playing with Rachel, but she always leaves him to play with Veronica. She likes sitting in the shade, but Lance likes the water. He swims and swims, all afternoon, ignoring Veronica when she tells him to come out, ignoring Luis too. That’s when the current pulls him under. 

“ _Luis!_ ” He yells as he surfaces, “ _Veroni_ — ” and then the water has him.

He wakes as Luis pulls him free of the ocean, as he coughs up seawater, crying and crying and tasting nothing but salt. 

  

__ __ __

 

He has the same dream the next night, wakes again as Luis pulls him from the water.

 

They discharge him from the hospital that afternoon.

 

That night, as he lay back in his own room for the first time since emerging from the healing pod, he hopes that maybe the dream won’t come.

 

It does. 

__ __ __

 

“Lance, are you sure you’re okay?” Hunk says into the quiet hallway, and Lance jumps. He quickly spins to face him, cheeks flushing a bright pink. 

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, still taken aback. Hunk simply quirks a brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Hunk leans back, crosses his arms, and frowns. Lance flinches; knows he’s been caught red handed, knows exactly what Hunk wants to say as his eyes pin him in place. 

 

_Really?_

 

Under Hunk’s gaze, he deflates. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, long and shaky, as the tension leaves his body but nerves take its place. 

“I know walking past the healing pods 8 times a day won’t make him wake up any sooner,” he gestures vaguely around them, to the healing pod bay at his back, and shrugs, “I just — I can’t help it.” 

At that, Hunk sighs, expression softening. He doesn’t say anything; instead, he simply walks up to Lance and tucks him in for a hug. 

“He’ll wake up,” Hunk says, and Lance’s eyes burn. He nods against his chest, and for one, short moment, he lets himself crumble in the comfort of his best friend’s arms. 

“How do you know?” He whispers, voice small. It’d been three days since Lance woke up, but Keith’s condition still hadn’t  changed. Only three days, but it already felt like a lifetime to him.

“Because it’s Keith.” Hunk states with resolve, matter-of-fact, as if that answers his question.

But somehow, it does — better than anything else could. Because he’s right. It is Keith. The same Keith he’s known since they were young cadets, back when Lance was young and naive. Back when he took Keith’s recklessness at face value instead of understanding what it truly was. 

“Thanks, Hunk,” he breaths, and as Hunk squeezes tight around him, he returns the pressure. 

Keith was the most selfless person Lance had ever met. It had taken him a long time to realize, but once he had, it all made sense. 

It was easy to mistake his behaviour for impulsivity, but he’d been so, so wrong. Keith had flown into space without a second thought for Shiro’s sake, had immediately offered his support to Voltron when he’d learned that the Universe was in danger. Had left the team so that Lance didn’t have to, had entered the quantum abyss and still managed to come back to them. Lance had never met anyone like him before. 

But Lance is different. He’s selfish, and he wants. He wants Keith to stop — stop constantly risking his life for them, stop putting himself in danger. He wants him to be safe, wants him by his side. Wants everything; even his ridiculously hard training drills, his sly comments, and his stupid mullet. Lance wants it all, wants him to come back, and if it appeals to Keith’s selfless nature, he isn’t afraid to ask. 

 

_Come back to us._

 

“No problem buddy.” Hunk says, and Lance smiles. Truly smiles, for the first time in days. 

 

_Come back to us, Keith._

 

_Come back to me._

 

__ __ __

 

 

That night, the dream comes again. But this time, it’s different. 

This time, the sky is dark, and so is the sea. There is no one on the beach as the water swallows him. 

 

_Estaba la pájara pinta,_ _sentada en un verde limón_

_[ There was a spotted bird, sitting in a green lemon tree ]_

 

As he struggles, surfacing as the waves pull back, he yells for someone to save him, just as he did when he was young. Just as he’s done the past three nights in a row. But tonight, a different name leaves his mouth, filling the cool night air. 

 

 _Con el pico cortaba la rama,_   _con la rama cortaba la flor_

_[ With its beak it cut the branch, with the branch it cut the flower ]_

  

“Keith!” And then the waves roll him back. “ _Kei_ —!” And then his lungs fill with water.

 

_Ay, ay, ay! C_ _uándo vendrá mi amor?_

_[ Ay, ay, ay! When will my love come? ]_

 

He fights against the current, desperately pushes toward the shore as though there’s something there waiting for him. His arms strain and his lungs burn and his legs shake but he pushes, even when the current pulls him back, even when another wave crashes over him. He’ll do anything, he thinks. He’ll do anything to get there, get to the shore. 

 

_Me arrodillo a los pies de mi amante,_ _me levanto constante, constante_

_[ I kneel at the feet of my love, I get up, loyal, loyal ]_

 

He sobs, and it escapes from him in bubbles that quickly get lost in the current. With the shore out of sight, his body goes slack. 

 

_Dame la mano, dame la otra,_ _dame un besito sobre la boca_

_[ Give me your hand, give me the other, give me a kiss on the mouth ]_

 

But then, strong arms wrap around his waist, lift him from the water. Blue eyes meet violet, and the ocean calms. 

Keith smiles at him, big and bright and happy, and Lance clings to it, clings to him, as Keith begins to spin with Lance still in his arms.

 

_Daré la media vuelta, d_ _aré la vuelta entera, c_ _on un pasito atrás, h_ _aciendo la reverencia_

_[ I'll make a half turn, I'll make a full circle, with one step back, making a bow ]_

 

Hugging him tight, Keith twirls them around and around until Lance begins to laugh. 

 

_Pero no, pero no, pero no,_ _porque me da vergüenza_

_[ But no, but no, but no, because I'm embarrassed ]_

 

Spinning and spinning and spinning...

 

_pero sí, pero sí, pero sí,_ _porque te quiero a ti_

_[ But yes, but yes, but yes, because I love you ]_

 

Until his feet meet the shore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter is called: [La pájara pinta (The spotted bird)](https://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=3367)
> 
> **I don't know why... but when I publish this chapter, random spaces keep being added to the spanish lyrics?? no matter how many times I delete them? Sigh, I'm sorry ;( Hopefully I can fix this soon


	4. Chapter 4

Lance wakes to the frantic buzzing of his communicator accompanied by someone knocking harshly at his door. He blindly reaches for his comm, silences it, and groggily peers at the screen: two missed calls from Pidge.

 

_Just now, he’d been on the beach._

 

He squints, disoriented, looking out the window in his room to see the sun just peaking above the desert hills. Briefly, he wonders what time it is, and then his door slides open.

“Lance, wake up!” Pidge bursts, pressing a few buttons on her wrist watch as she fixes her eyes on where he sits in bed. His door gives a few defiant _clicks_ before the lock and alarm system are completely disabled. She puts her hands on her hips, and through the haze of sleep, Lance can’t tell if he’s impressed or uneasy about how easy she made that look.

“What?” He questions, voice rough with sleep. He rubs at his eyes as he yawns, eyes watering.

 

_He swears he was just on the beach, twirling in Keith’s arms, and—_

 

“Keith’s awake,” She states, and Lance nearly falls out of bed, heart pounding in his ears. “My mom was doing her rounds in the health ward when the alert came in.” She makes her way into Lance’s room, walks to the wall opposite his bed, and begins to pound her fists against it.

“ _Huuuuuunk!_ ” She shouts, and through the walls, they both hear a muffled “ _Huh?!_ ”

“Keith’s awake!” She repeats, yelling directly at the wall.

“ _Pidge…?_ ” he hears Hunk ask the empty space in his room. “ _Where are you?!_ ” Lance simply gapes.

“Lance’s room,” she states, as if the answer’s obvious. She glances at her wrist watch, quickly reads the message on the screen. “He was just rushed over to the Garrison hospital,” she scrolls, “Shiro was there when he woke up, and Krolia is meeting them at the hospital now.”

“Pidge?” he asks, surprised by the fragility of his own voice. He coughs, blushes, tries to pretend it was due to sleep and not his firing nerves. She lifts her gaze to meet his, and her face softens.

 

 _Just a moment ago, he’d been on the beach. He’d been in Keith’s arms, Keith had_ **_saved_ ** _him... and—_

 

“Get ready,” she says “We’re going to the hospital.”

 

_He was awake._

 

__ __ __

 

“Ow— Pidge,” for about the fifth time since arriving at the hospital, Pidge grabs Lance by the shoulder and yanks him down, rough and hurried, before stubbornly smoothing her hand over the hair above his ear.

“Pidge, I don’t think you can fix it,” Hunk chuckles, and Lance sighs.

“Pidge, I really don’t mi—” Lance tries to reason, to straighten, but Pidge yanks him back down.

“I can fix it!” she huffs. Normally, Lance would be mortified at the prospect of going anywhere with his bedhead, but today, he just can’t bring himself to care about how he looks. It didn’t matter that his hair was sticking up, that the Garrison uniform he’d swiped off his floor was wrinkly and unkempt. Not when Keith was awake, and Lance could finally see him, could finally touch him for real.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relenting to her grooming. Hunk laughs again, and Lance elbows him in the ribs. Hunk feigns hurt, dramatically clutches his side, and Lance can’t help but smile.

“Excuse me,” Pidge is the first to reach the front counter. She stands on her tiptoes, adjusts her glasses as she peers over the edge. “We’re here to see Keith Kogane.” The nurse behind the desk swivels in her chair, gives them all a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not allowing any visitors at the moment,” she says, voice soft. “Our staff is currently monitoring him closely for any additional health concerns, only family and next of kin are permitted in the back.” Lance’s heart sinks, and Hunk squeezes his shoulder.

They spend the rest of the day in the waiting room, only leaving for the occasional food and washroom break. The entire time, Lance’s nerves never stop going off in his chest; he fidgets until that isn’t enough, paces until Hunk brings him back down to his seat. They repeat this pattern throughout the day, Lance only managing to relax when Hunk is able take his hand, squeeze hard, and ground him. 

It’s around 8:30 at night when Pidge leaves. She squirms, confesses apologetically that she has an experiment to finish with Matt for the flight unit by tomorrow. Lance can tell that she really doesn’t want to leave as she promises to come back first thing in the morning, and his answering smile is reassuring. At least, he hopes it is.

“I have to go, too,” Hunk says, slightly sheepish, breaking the silence between them shortly after Pidge leaves. Lance’s fingers reflexively tighten around Hunk’s, and Hunk sighs. “I know, Lance,” he soothes, “I know you want to stay. I’m not going to try and convince you to come with me.” Lance turns to face him, wide eyed, and Hunk simply smiles. “I wish you would, though,” he confesses, “You could use the sleep.” 

“I’m fine, Hunk,” Lance’s voice is cheerful, but it wavers. “Honest.” Hunk raises an eyebrow, entirely unconvinced, and honestly, Lance isn’t quite convinced himself. Regardless, Hunk relents, releasing Lance’s hand only to lean over and trap him in a bone crushing hug. “Can you at least humour me and say that you’ll try and get some rest?”

“I’ll try and get some rest,” Lance dutifully repeats, and Hunk laughs quietly against him. “Thanks, Hunk. For everything,” he whispers, and Hunk squeezes.

“Of course buddy. It’s what friends are for,” he withdraws, smiling, “Goodnight Lance,” and then, he’s gone.

Predictably, Lance can feel himself getting more and more antsy without Hunk’s stable influence by his side. Within twenty minutes, he’s pacing again, limbs tense and aching. He’s never been any good at calming himself down, but he tries. He tries to slow his breathing, wraps his arms around his torso to keep them from fidgeting, but his heart still races. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, groans loud and long, and— wait, _was he alone in here_? He stills, and for the first time that night, he realizes that he’s the only person in the waiting room. With Hunk and Pidge at his side, he must not have noticed the staff thinning in this portion of the hospital as it got later and later. Without thinking, he steals himself, takes one last quick look around the room to ensure he’s completely alone, before hastily sneaking down the hallway towards the hospital rooms. Guilt pricks at his chest, but it’s dull compared to his screaming nerves, near silent next to the ache in his chest that being this close, yet so far, to Keith has conjured. He wanders for awhile, but it isn’t long before he finds him— after all, they tend to keep healing pod dischargees in the same wing. Unfortunately, it’s one Lance has come to know particularly well.

He peers inside Keith’s room, and instantly spots him talking with Krolia and Shiro. He’s smiling, and the relief that washes through Lance at just _seeing_ him is enough to make him dizzy. He scoots away from the door before he’s noticed, leans against the wall next to the hospital door, breathing uneven. Keith had always been solitary, had always enjoyed spending time alone. Unlike Lance, who recovered around a boisterous family, noise, and energy, Keith recovered quietly, independently. Lance understands why Keith would want to keep it close for today, even after the doctors finished their testing. Quite frankly, he doesn’t know if Keith even remembers what he’d said to him the night they went into the healing pods, or if Keith even wants to see him at all. His heart squeezes, and he clutches at the fabric over his chest. He knows this, yet he can’t bring himself to leave. He feels childish, foolish even, but he _can’t_.  

His knees give and he slides down the wall, pulls his folded legs to his chest and hugs them close. The hall is quiet, save the low hum of heat blowing through the vents in the wall, the soft buzzing of the fluorescent lights lining the ceiling. It isn’t long before he’s closing his eyes, letting his mind wander to his dream for the first time since that morning. Keith had been on the beach, had lifted him from the water. He remembers how his hands felt around his waist, the sound of his laugh, low and breathy, as he’d twirled him around in the water like a scene from a fairytale. And now, he was so close, right behind the wall at his back. Safe. _Alive_.

He falls asleep to the low hum of the vents, the buzzing of the lights, and the sound of gentle waves as Keith spins him to shore once again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> softness incoming..........


	5. Chapter 5

**Keith**

 

Krolia and Shiro stay well beyond sunset. Time passes quickly that day, almost unnoticed as they talk, filling him in on the days he’s missed, on what happened the night he went into the healing pod. 

Krolia’s kisses him on the forehead before they leave, her touch firm and reassuring. Shiro promises that they’ll both return in the morning. With a tired smile, Keith bids them goodnight. When the door slides shut, he breathes in slow, adjusting to the silence.

But it’s over before he has a chance to exhale, as Krolia is striding back into his room almost as soon as she’s left. As she enters, Keith catches a glimpse of Shiro chuckling quietly in the hallway through the crack in the sliding doors. He raises an eyebrow, and Krolia comes to his bedside and whispers.

“The red paladin is asleep next to the door,” there is no judgement in her tone, only fact. “Shall we wake him up? Take him back to his room?” Keith blinks in surprise as the thought registers, silent for a few moments. Again, he takes a deep breath in, steadying himself.

“No, don’t wake him up,” he says, low and soft. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure? It may not be wise to move around so soon,” she sets a hand on his shoulder, squeezes. Keith smiles up at her.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” he promises. In answer, she holds his eyes, studies him. Then, she nods, squeezes his shoulder once more with a steady palm. Krolia never presses, always trusts his judgement, and Keith loves her for it.

“Nevertheless, try not to move around too much,” she says as she pulls back, crossing her arms. Her tone is even, soft, but Keith can hear the command behind it. Like him, Krolia lacked a soft touch. Also like him, her eyes never betrayed her true intentions. On the outside, she was cool and collected, but to Keith, she was doting like a mother hen.

“Goodnight, mom,” Keith laughs, unable to help himself. She raises an eyebrow, stares for a few moments, but ultimately relents with a small twitch of her lips.

“Goodnight, Keith.” She turns, and with the soft _whoosh_ of the sliding doors, he’s finally alone. He sits in silence for a moment, listening as Krolia and Shiro’s footsteps fade down the hall. When he can no longer hear them, he finally lets himself picture it. Lance, asleep by his door, waiting for him. The image is enough to have him near giddy as he climbs out of bed, smiling despite himself. Affection pools warm in his belly as he stretches slowly, makes his way across the room. When he passes through the sliding door, the warmth inside him immediately sparks, burns up his skin, and has him sucking in a breath. To Keith, Lance had always been a matchstick— able to set him off without warning, turn his heart to melting wax as the wick lights and Keith _burns_.

Keith soaks in the sight for all that it’s worth— Lance, huddled against the wall, folded arms resting against his knees which are bent and propped loosely against his chest. His cheek lay against the pillow of his arms, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes softly, slowly, in and out, in and out, in and out. There are slight bags under his eyes and a cowlick that curls above his ear, and _oh_ — Lance snores softly then, murmurs something low and unintelligible as he dreams, and Keith’s heart does a somersault in his chest. He’d come out with the intention of waking Lance up, but he can’t… not when Lance looks so peaceful, is sleeping so soundly.

Instead, he slowly makes his way over to where Lance sleeps, trying not to wake him. He sits next to him carefully, and when Lance doesn’t stir, he inches closer until he can feel the heat from Lance’s body radiating against the side of his arm. Lance shivers slightly, scrunches his nose in discontent; and he must feel Keith’s warmth beside him, because then, he leans into him, feels the warmth of his skin, and immediately relaxes. Keith holds his breath, bites at his lip to keep himself grounded as his heart rate spikes.

It doesn’t take long before Lance is craning into him, chasing his warmth. His body goes lax, arms slackening around his knees until they lay against Keith’s legs. Lance’s head falls to his shoulder, where he rubs his cheek into the warm fabric of Keith’s shirt, presses into him like he’s a pillow before huffing heavy and hot against him. He resumes his contented snoring, and Keith becomes acutely aware of every part of his body that Lance touches. He’s warm, so warm, and there’s nothing Keith can do to stop the surge of affection that rolls through him then, hot and all encompassing.

He doesn’t know how long they stay this way, Lance sleeping quietly against him, until his eyelids start to feel heavy. He fights the urge to sleep for as long as he can, determined to watch over Lance, promising that he’ll _wake him in 5 minutes, I’ll just let him sleep for 5 more minutes._ It’s a battle he’s destined to lose with Lance pressed against him, warm and soft, breathing even and steady. He travels in and out of sleep, unsure of when he crosses the line into full unconsciousness, but he must, for the next thing he knows, he’s startling awake from where he rests against a head full of brown curls. He’s confused until he hears Lance’s breath hitch, feels his entire body tense against him. On his next breath, Lance whispers something that Keith can’t quite make out, but Keith doesn’t miss the way his voice shakes, how his breathing becomes heavy and uneven. Lance grows restless, and Keith holds his breath; silent, waiting. 

Lance’s breath stutters again, catches in his throat. “Keith...” he whispers, so soft Keith nearly misses it. He shifts, looks down at Lance in surprise just in time to watch a tear break from the corner of Lance’s eye and roll down the curve of his cheek. His heart aches as he slowly, softly, wipes the tear from Lance’s face. 

“Shh, Lance,” he hushes, an attempt to soothe. He strokes Lance’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, feather light. “It’s okay, I’m right here.” He continues to reassure him, whispering a quiet litany of comfort until Lance’s breathing slows and his face softens. He doesn’t stop until Lance is completely calm against him, snoring once again. With an aching heart, Keith searches for Lance’s hand, laces their fingers together and brings them to rest between them. He holds firm, and Lance tenses again, but this time, he squeezes Keith’s hand with a sigh before melting further into him. Keith presses a soft kiss to his temple, wondering how exhausted Lance must have been to sleep so soundly, propped against the hard wall of the cold hallway. He leans against him purposefully this time, sighs into the bed of his curls as he relaxes, determined to stay by his side and keep him safe, at least for tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

Keith wakes to the early morning sun pressing against the backs of his eyes. The hallway is empty and relatively quiet, but the blinds are all open, and there’s a soft blue blanket draped over them both. Briefly, Keith wonders where it came from, but then Lance shifts against him.

He looks down, helpless to the sleeping boy still propped against his shoulder. Lance is leaning into him, head resting atop the flat expanse between Keith’s shoulder and collarbone. His features are soft with sleep, and his breath is warm as he exhales against him. After a few moments, Lance stirs under his gaze.

“Morning,” Keith whispers.

“Mmm,” Lance protests lightly, rubbing his head against Keith’s shoulder like it’s a pillow he’s trying to snuggle. “Mornin’,” he slurs, and Keith huffs a laugh.

Lance blinks his eyes open, takes in his surroundings slowly. “Morning?” he repeats to himself, reluctantly lifting his head. Through half lidded eyes, he looks up and down the hall, at the blanket covering their legs, at Keith sitting next to him. He simply stares at Keith, sleepy, questioning, until reality seems to dawn on him. His eyes widen, big and blue and searching.

Keith smiles down at him, squeezes the hand that he still holds in his. At the sudden pressure, Lance seems to come back into himself.

“Keith?” he whispers, voice quiet and awed as if he doesn’t quite believe it’s him.

“Hey, sharpshooter.”

Lance continues to stare, silent and unmoving. His breath hitches in his throat, and Keith watches his eyes cloud over like he’s going to cry. At the sight, Keith bristles, panics, but then Lance is slinging himself practically on top of him, wrapping his arms around his neck.  

“Keith!” he whispers like it was punched out of him, heavy and raw. At first, Keith’s overwhelmed by the sudden closeness, but as Lance buries himself against his neck, hugs him tighter, he finds himself wrapping his arms around him in return. Affection has never come naturally to Keith, but his arms slot into place around Lance’s middle so easily Keith can’t help but think they were meant to be there.

Lance pulls back, and it’s so abrupt that Keith jumps. He reaches forward, grabs both of Keith’s cheeks and holds them between his palms. Keith feels his lips pucker slightly as Lance squishes his cheeks with the force of his hold, but Lance doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s you?” he asks, breathy and hopeful. “It’s really you? I’m not dreaming???” Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah Lance, it’s me,” he laughs, grabs at Lance’s wrists so he can draw his hands down and away from his face. “Why were you sleeping in the hallway?” he says, and Lance flushes. He averts his gaze, fixes it on something in the distance, and presses his lips together into a thin line.

“Uh… well,” Lance fidgets, clears his throat. “They wouldn’t let us in to see you. Only Shiro and Krolia… which of course is fine! I totally get it! Family comes first,” he flushes deeper, absently brings a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to interrupt you guys, so I figured I’d uh, wait. I guess. I might have… lost track of time,” he deflates with a sigh, adamantly continues to avoid Keith’s gaze.

“You think?” Keith smiles, tone light and calm. It has Lance flicking his eyes back up to meet his. He watches as Lance takes a deep breath in, swallows slowly as if to steady himself. Flushed and hesitant, he doesn’t take his eyes from Keith’s as he reaches out a hand and grazes his thumb against a small portion of Keith’s jaw. Keith sucks in a breath at the contact, stilling completely.

Lance’s touch is feather light at first, shy and tentative as he brushes the backs of his fingers against Keith’s cheek, traces the bow of his cheek bone with the pad of his thumb. He’s slow, so slow, as his other hand lifts to cup the other side of Keith’s face, cradling his scar in his palm. His expression starts innocent, hopeful; as if he’s studying him, trying to convince himself that Keith is really there. As he continues, letting his eyes and his hands wander the dips and curves of Keith’s features, his eyebrows begin to crease, and his touch becomes more sure. He runs his fingers along the hollow of Keith’s cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, lets his hand dip to rest against the side of his neck, thumb against the line of his jaw. At that, Keith finally exhales, in one, weighted sigh. He wishes it wouldn’t, but his breath shakes a little.

“You’re really… real,” Lance breathes, and normally, Keith would try and joke at such a strange statement. But, he’s lost the ability to function after Lance touched him like that, like he was something fragile. He shivers, Lance’s hands still pressed warm against him.

“Yeah,” he whispers, low and awed. Keith stares and stares, searching for something in Lance’s expression, anything. But it doesn’t shift, save the soft quiver of his lower lip as breathes in.

Gently, Lance lets both of his hands fall against Keith’s chest, where he grips the fabric at the front of his shirt. He looks down at where his hands clench fabric, and when he speaks, his voice is thick and heavy. “I was so scared,” he says, and at the sound, Keith feels his heart catch in his throat.

“Lance...” he reaches between them to grip at one of Lance’s wrists. Lance looks up, but doesn’t meet his gaze.

“For a second, I thought...” Lance continues like he hadn’t heard him. His next words catch in his throat, and it takes a moment for him to steady himself. “I thought you were _dead_ ,” his lower lip trembles again as he speaks, “and then everyone was rushing us to the healing pods… and I was so afraid to let you go—”

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith stops him, can’t take the way Lance is slowly unravelling in front of him. It’s his turn to grab at Lance’s face as he reaches forward, cups his jaw and angles him so that Lance has no choice but to look at him. “It’s okay, I’m _right here_ ,” his voice is steady, but he can’t help the way it hints at a plea, desperate for Lance to calm. But Lance scrunches his face, breathes in shaky, and Keith can tell that he’s trying to hold back tears.

“No, it _isn’t_ . You almost _died_ , Keith,” he fists the fabric at Keith’s front so, so hard. Like it’s a tether, like if he lets go, Keith will disappear. “We weren't even sure if you were going to wake up. These past few days have been— have been—“ his breath stutters in his throat and Keith watches, helpless, as the tears finally escape and start to roll down his cheeks. “I didn’t know what to do— I didn’t know what I’d do if, if...” Lance is getting more and more frantic, and Keith _can’t_. He draws him in close, guides his head to rest against the crook of his neck, laces his fingers through his hair and holds him tight. Lance’s body shudders as he tries and fails to stifle a sob. He’s still gripping at the front of his shirt, hands trembling, and Keith can feel the blunt edge of his nails against his chest as his grip flexes and relaxes with each, heavy breath. Quietly, so quiet, Lance takes to whispering a soft, watery litany of Keith’s name over and over again against his skin, and Keith’s heart squeezes so tight in his chest he thinks it might burst.

“I’m so sorry, Lance.”

“No, I’m sorry,” he shakes his head against Keith’s shoulder, voice slightly muffled. “I’m sorry, this was all my fault. If it wasn’t for me—“ Lance tries to pull back, but Keith holds him in place.

“Stop. I know you would’ve done the same for me,” he holds him steady, and Lance takes a long, wavering breath, and then stills. “It wasn’t your fault... I chose to get between you and that soldier, and I’d do it again, too.” _And again, and again, and again..._

His arms slacken, and Lance pulls back. His face is tear streaked and pale, hair wild and ruffled, and all Keith wants to do is draw him back in, hold him and comfort him, keep him safe. Instead, he settles for smoothing away some of the tears staining his cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“Don’t,” Lance says. Keith startles slightly, taken aback.

“Don’t?”

“Don’t,” Lance emphasizes, lets the word sink into the air between them. “I don’t want to be safe, I...” he goes quiet, and his face, which is already patchy, flushes deeper. He worries at his bottom lip, hesitates. “I just want you to be here,” he finally speaks, voice low. He looks down at his hands again, and Keith’s heart breaks.

“Do you remember what you said?” he’s so quiet that Keith nearly misses it. There are lingering tears still caught in his eye lashes, and his entire body trembles between them. Keith has never seen him like this before, so open and vulnerable. “That day, to me... before you—“ he stops, breathing uneven.

A surge of emotion, intensity, racks through him then. He feels like a boiling kettle, so full of pressure that he’s ready to boil over. He sits up straight, reaches a hand to cup at the back of lance’s head, tangle in his curls. Then, he draws him forward, presses a hot, lingering kiss to his forehead.

“I know. That’s why I’m sorry,” he pauses, nose resting against Lance’s forehead. “I know how it feels... to miss someone. To not know if they’re okay. Shiro isn’t exactly... easy to keep track of,” he chuckles softly, but then sighs heavy against him. “And yes,” he whispers, “I do remember.” Before Lance has time to reply, he continues.

“And I’m sorry for that, too. I feel horrible for... admitting something like that the way I did, for leaving you with no explanation,” he closes his eyes, stills for a moment as he lets himself remember. “But, at the time, I only had one thought... and it was that I had to tell you. I couldn’t...” he stops as the words stick in his throat. Determined, he takes one, shuddering breath before continuing. “I couldn’t die without you knowing, without having told you. It’s so selfish, I know, but, you’re— Lance, you’re—“

Lance tilts his head quick, fresh tears spilling from his eyes, nose gliding up Keith’s skin until he catches his mouth. Where his fingers are still gripping fabric, he uses his hold as leverage to pull Keith closer, press them together. He straightens, draws back to breathe, and Keith is in awe as two hands cup his jaw on the exhale, wrap through his hair as he breathes in shallow and catches his mouth once again. He gives himself immediately to Lance’s prodding mouth, to him, open and unabashed and rough. His hands fall to Lance’s hips where he holds him steady, anchors himself as he feels his head start to cloud. The kiss is soft, but there’s an edge to it that settles deep in Keith’s belly and rolls and claps like thunder.

All too soon, Lance pulls away. He brushes their lips together, plants a light kiss to the side of Keith’s mouth. “I’m?” he asks, almost timid, breath hot against Keith’s mouth. His heart races, his grip against him tightens, and it _hurts_. Hurts how much he loves him.

As it often does, eloquence completely fails him as he looks at Lance, who meets his eyes hesitantly, shy and questioning. “Everything,” he rasps, voice raw. But he doesn’t care. “Everything, Lance. Everything,” and then he draws him back in. He swallows Lance’s gasp, holds him as he jolts in surprise when two palms cup his cheeks, holding him steady and pulling him close. Their lips meet like crashing waves as Keith overflows with the need for Lance to _know._ He doesn’t want Lance to hesitate when it comes to him, doesn’t want him to question or wonder how Keith feels. How Lance doesn’t already know that he has Keith in the palm of his hands, entirely and irrevocably, is beyond him; he wants to kiss the hesitation out of him, hold him close until there’s no doubt in his mind that Keith love hims. He draws back, but continues to hold onto him. They’re so close, yet somehow, it doesn’t feel close enough.

“I love you, too” Lance whispers, smiling, but then tears are running back down his cheeks, “I love you Keith.” Keith smiles, sighs, brings a hand to rub up and down Lance’s back, warm and gentle.

Lance straightens and sniffles, pulls back so he can bring a hand up to cover his face. Immediately, Keith grabs his wrist, keeps him from hiding his face. Lance furrows his brows, turns his head away as a watery hiccup escapes his lips.

Lance is a crier, has always been a crier. Keith’s seen him cry over movies, commercials, _Altean_ commercials, at a picture of a dog, anything and everything. He cries when he’s frustrated, when he’s happy, heartbroken, angry, upset, and everything in between; but he only cries like this, hiccupy and breathless, when he’s relieved.

“Why are you smiling?” Lance accuses, flushing deeper under Keith’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just,” he says, unable to hide the joy in his voice, “you love me.” Lance steals a glance at him then, pouts. He hiccups despite himself, and Keith’s heart thuds in his ears.

“Yeah,” all the resistance in Lance dies with the word, “I do.” He sighs, lowers his eyes, drags a hand down Keith’s chest only to stop and hover above his left abdomen. He doesn’t even think Lance is conscious of the action as he presses lightly, lingering, fingers directly above where there now sits a fresh, new scar.

Keith knows how he feels. Remembers, potently, how he felt the first time he saw the scar on Lance’s back after Sendak attacked the Castle of Lions for the first time. How it still makes him feel when he sees it, how his stomach wrings tight like a twisting cloth. It’s never gotten easier to see how the aftermaths of battle marr his skin, how the war follows them all home, reminds them that they’re never safe. He grabs ahold of Lance’s wrist, draws his fingers up and presses them against his lips.

“There will be more of these,” he whispers against his fingertips. All of him wants to promise that he’ll keep Lance safe, that he’ll keep himself safe. That something like this won’t happen again. But they’d both know it’d be a lie, and Keith isn’t in the business of making promises he can’t keep.

But Lance knows, just like him, more than anyone. “Does it hurt?” he asks, after a beat of silence.

“No,” he shifts to hold Lance’s hand. He squeezes, “Not anymore,” and Lance squeezes back, hard.

Lance’s voice is small, but he smiles up at him. “Next time, I get to save you.” It’s solemn, but playful, and Keith can’t help but smile.

“Okay,” Keith says aloud, rubs his thumb against the back of Lance’s hand. Distantly, he thinks, _you already have_.

Life is short, and Keith has been shown this again and again. First, with his dad, who left him as a kid. Then, with Shiro when the Kerberos mission failed. He can’t even count how many times he’d witnessed his Blade comrades fall, sacrificing themselves for a greater good they chose to believe in but would never get to see. But, miracles happened, too. He knows this, because Shiro came back to him, and so did his mother. And now he knew that Lance, the only greater good he’d ever believed in, believed in him, too.

He doesn’t know when the next battle will come, but he does have Lance here, practically in his lap. The boy he’s had a crush on for years and has loved for more, rosy cheeked and bed-headed, all soft skin and tired eyed and quite frankly, they’re both gross and a complete and utter mess but if war’s taught him anything, it’s that moments like this are fleeting and you never know how many more you’ll have. He wants to kiss Lance again, so he does. He does and he does and he does until Lance is out of breath, flustered and sighing and laughing and Keith thinks that he never wants this moment to end.

They fall asleep again, breathing against each other, Lance resting fully in Keith’s lap. A mess of tears and tangled limbs but content in each other’s arms. Keith has no idea how long they’re there before a nurse is gently waking them up, asking Keith to _please, for the love of God, go back to bed_. Lance, embarrassed, hides his face in Keith’s neck the entire time and it’s so cute that Keith wonders, briefly, if maybe he had died during that battle and this is all just a dream.

He finally makes his way back to his hospital bed with Lance in tow, holds his arms out until Lance settles against him once again. He’s sore as hell after spending God knows how long propped against the hallway wall, but no part of him cares as Lance buries himself against the warmth of his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not important, but in my mind, I pictured Shiro being the one to put the blanket over them. 
> 
> Imagine: Shiro arriving early that morning to find all the nurses whispering to each other about the black and red paladins, huddled together in the hall. None of them have the heart to wake them up, obviously, because that shit's adorable. Shiro sees them and has to take a moment to collect himself because, holy shit his baby bro finally did it. 
> 
> He takes 100 pictures on his cellphone and him and Adam start planning the wedding (he's alive, obviously. IT'S MY CITY NOWWWWW)


	7. Chapter 7

**Lance**  

 

That afternoon, the ocean in Lance’s dreams is calm as he lays against Keith.

He listens to Keith’s steady heartbeat, to the soft rise and fall of his chest, until his breaths begin to sound like ocean waves cresting and breaking, cresting and breaking, over and over and over again. They lull him to sleep, slow and calm, the ocean returning to its old comfort as Keith tethers him, wholly and completely, to the shore, no matter how far out he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOY I FINALLY DID IT. I FINISHED THIS. HOW DO I FEEL ABOUT IT? I HAVE NO IDEA ACTUALLY BUT HERE IT IS. 
> 
> __ __ __ 
> 
>    
> Remember those pictures Shiro took of them in the hall? Well guess what I have another dumb HC.
> 
> Imagine... Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Keith, eating lunch together or something. 
> 
> Lance finds out that Pidge has pictures of them sleeping next to each other on her phone, and naturally, he's freaking out. Soon, he realizes that everyone has seen the pictures of them sleeping in the hall- Hunk, Krolia, Matt, Iverson, Veronica, Kosmo, his entire family.... listen. They ship it. We all ship it. Anyway.
> 
> Lance is mortified, but Keith is "......." until Lance calls him out. "Why are you so calm? Why are you not shocked?!"
> 
> and Keith is like “uh…” and Lance is like!! >:o wait!! 
> 
> Plot twist Keith has had the pictures since the beginning and maybE he’s been the one showing everyone and swooning over them and maybeeEe he bribed Shiro for them,,,,,, but listen he's weak and in love and it isn't his fault. 
> 
> Lance??? Is appalled, horrified, "how could you do this to me Keith? Betray my trust like this??? I'm so upset..... can you send me those pictures though asking for a friend..... *cough*..... so distressed!!!" 
> 
> Ok that's the end of my shitty HC. You're welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Click [here](https://linktr.ee/sleapea) for links to my ~socials~ uwu


End file.
